Shannon Rutherford

Shannon stared incredulously at her husband as she physically blocked him from retreating further down the hallway. "I thought you wanted me to get a job."

"Shannon, you couldn't even keep the Mr. Clucks job. You'd just embarrass yourself. And me. Again." Dennis moved to squeeze past Shannon, his back to the stairwell, only to be blocked again when Shannon placed both palms on the walls beside her, effectively blocking him from the bedroom once more.

"What, like I was really going to clean the bathrooms. God damn it, it's just a part time receptionist thing, what's the big deal? Besides, you're always complaining about how lazy I am and how you have to pay for all my shit." Shannon narrowed her eyes and tried to keep from shouting. They didn't need the couple in the apartment next to theirs calling the police. Again.

"Because all receptionists are sluts, and… Damn it Shannon, will you get out of my fucking way!" Shannon was shoved backward, landing hard on the fake wood floors. Dennis stepped over her.

Shannon was crying now, all thoughts about the neighbors forgotten as she pushed herself back up, "You can't just fucking push me around like that! God, you're such a fucking dick, I should have just stayed with Nora!" She grabbed a small picture frame off the wall without thinking, sending it hurling into Dennis' back. Dennis froze mid-step before spinning around and cursing at her.

The next few minutes passed in a flurry of screaming before Shannon was flung backward into a wall. Her head connected sharply, making her teeth clink together. She immediately splayed her hands out on the wall behind her as she tried to correct her stance to keep herself upright. Her right foot slipped of the top of the stairwell at the end of the hall, sending her tumbling down the small flight of stairs with a pained gasp.

Shannon landed at the base of the stairs hard, failing to catch herself in time. She slowly began to push herself up, and let out a strangled curse. She couldn't put weight on her left arm. Something was wrong with her shoulder. Or her neck? A deep throbbing pain began to set in as she struggled to get herself in a kneeling position. Dennis was squatting behind her now, she realized through her pain, supporting her back and apologizing over and over.

...

He drove her to the hospital himself, always touching her reassuringly in some way. Petting her hair, resting his hand over hers where it lay in her lap as they waited to be admitted in the ER. She stayed quiet the entire time the doctors treated her, only offering a small explanation on "I slipped and fell down the stairs." before being taken in to get x-rayed.

The kid in the bed next to her kept crying and getting sick all over himself, and it was driving her insane. The doctor was absent, as was Dennis, who was making a trip to the vending machines. Shannon swung her legs out over the side of the bed and stood, padding in bare feet into the hall toward the pay phone she had spotted earlier. She grit her teeth as she tilted her head to cradle the receiver as her broken collarbone protested. She managed to place a collect call to Boone, curling her toes against the cold tile floors of the hospital and adjusting her sling as she waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Boone… Could you come get me?" She was crying again.

"Shannon? What's wrong? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm at the Olympia Medical Center. I… I fell…" Wait, what was she doing? This had all been a stupid accident. Dennis didn't mean to hurt her, he never did. She gripped the receiver harder, "Never mind. I don't know why I called. I have to get back to my room before Dennis does, anyway."

"Shannon? Shannon! Are you still in LA?" was the last thing she heard before she hung up the phone.

...

Shannon's things were in a cardboard box at the foot of the bed when she got home from grocery shopping two days later (luckily they had only run out of milk as her arm was still in a sling-bound). She stood in the bedroom doorway bewildered, as Dennis kicked the box over to her. "Here. Get out."

"What? What do you mean 'get out'?" She stared at the box filled with her things in disbelief, idly noticing that there was a significant amount missing.

"Your brother's in town." He stated as if this explained everything.

"My brother…?"

Dennis shrugged a shoulder casually, "Said you called him. He paid me ten grand for you." He paused with a thoughtful expression, "…I guess that makes you a whore, doesn't it?" He shot her a mean grin.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." Shannon whispered, wiping away tears with her good arm.

Dennis shrugged again, "Shit, I would have dropped you on your ass for fifty bucks," he continued as if Shannon hadn't spoken, "I guess smarts doesn't exactly run in the family, huh?"

...

Shannon stood on the curb with the cardboard box at her feet, angry tears running down her face as she waited for Boone to come pick her up. She hated him. Hated him. He couldn't have her so now nobody could? She'd kill herself before she became dependent on him. Of course he was expecting her to run sobbing into his arms, full of gratitude for saving her after getting thrown out by her husband, with no money, a box of clothes and a useless arm.

She watched Boone's rental pull up with her eyes narrowed, blissfully unaware that Shannon knew what he'd done.

She needed to get away from this place, from him, from this whole stupid country.